


Into the Unknown

by PeachesandBones



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Star Trek (2009)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachesandBones/pseuds/PeachesandBones
Summary: After the destruction of Vulcan, the Federation has a medical mystery on its hands. One tenth of the remaining Vulcans are in comas, and the Vulcan Sciences Academy isn't cooperating with Starfleet Medical. With a little persistence, Bones finds one Vulcan who is willing to help.





	Into the Unknown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Billythesock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billythesock/gifts).



> I saw your prompt and this idea popped into my head and demanded to be written. It became much longer than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy it!

McCoy was exhausted. 

He thought that after the Nerada was destroyed, after the survivors were treated, after all of the funerals and memorial ceremonies, that everyone could start licking their wounds and rebuilding. The Federation was at rock bottom and the only way to go was up and forward, after all.

He was wrong.

Ten thousand Vulcans were remaining after the destruction of their home planet. Ten thousand, out of a population of six billion. The math was staggering, and sometimes when Leonard looked at his Vulcan patients, he had to ignore that he was responsible for a medical mystery encompassing a tenth of their remaining population.

One thousand Vulcans, trapped in comas that no one could wake them from.

No one knew what to do. All of the healers died with the destruction of Vulcan. There was nothing physically wrong, nothing to point at and cure. Aside from parenteral nutrition, none of the Vulcans had medical needs to attend to. The Starfleet Medical Centre had essentially become a storehouse of green flesh that no one could do anything for. Neural stimulation, injections of neurochemical transmitters, attempts to externally manipulate delta waves into alpha, beta and gamma waves - everything they could think of had failed. Repeatedly.

Perhaps most frustrating was the team from the Vulcan Sciences Academy. They were stand-offish, refusing to report to the other teams what they were testing out on their fellows, refusing to share results. Worst of all was that they couldn’t be pressured. They had lost their friends, families, their planet - arguing or forcing them into compliance was not only insensitive, but career suicide.

Yet, McCoy couldn’t help but watch them hover over their fallen comrades, occasionally touching their faces, making notes, and feel rage. 

The nurses were restless. There were no medical emergencies, no complex procedures to be performed. But the Vulcan’s nails and hair kept growing, they needed to be bathed and fed and have blood drawn, so after all their training, the nurses were relegated to the duties of care takers.

“I’m sorry.” Christine had said after the first month. “I’m fresh out of school, and while I know this is a perplexing challenge for you, I’m losing my skill set before I’ve had a chance to perfect it.” Then she was gone, lost somewhere on the frontier, and other nurses were following her to the stars, and nowhere in Starfleet were there enough nurses to cover the need. McCoy had spent afternoons begrudgingly filing nails and providing oral care because there was no one else to do it. He and another doctor, an Andorian who the Vulcan delegation were particularly cold to, had spent an entire night shift helping the nursing staff change the antimicrobial sheets after they realized several beds hadn’t been touched for over two weeks.

It was hell when he was on the floor, and when he was trying to rest in his quarters it was worse. He reviewed every article on Vulcan physiology he could find, and there wasn’t much. The Rules of Silence were so ingrained that much of the material available to non-Vulcan eyes was conjecture, from xenospecialists who had started to reinvented the wheel. McCoy could only hope the remaining Vulcans would soon realize that their secrecy had become a luxury they could not afford.

 

In addition to shorter days and milder weather, fall had always brought with it an anxiety that trailed Leonard wherever he went. He would watch the sun set earlier, day by day, and wonder where the summer had gone, how had Joanna grown four inches, and how he already felt so behind in the academic year. A sense of urgency always enveloped him, pushed him to the libraries and labs where he spent more time indoors than he did catching the remaining sunlight.

He was en route to the medical sciences library when he saw the tall, dark haired figure walking determinedly, and Leonard almost let him walk on by. Except now even grudges came at a price that was too costly.

“Spock.” He called out, breaking out into a light jog.

“Doctor McCoy.” He nodded, and stopped to allow Leonard to catch up to him.

“I need your help.” Spock’s neutral facial expression didn’t change, but McCoy knew that he was annoyed all the same.

“I am quite busy in my duties involving the Vulcan High Command and the United Federation of Planets Council on - “

“We’re all fucking busy, Spock.” He snapped. “Except, I’m kept busy because none of the Vulcans on the medical team will communicate with the rest of us. We barely understand Vulcan physiology, and what we do know has been based on trial and error, and we are fish out of water right now. I need someone to cooperate, give us some information on-”

“Doctor.” Spock’s face was steely, even as his words came out controlled and faultless. “If the Vulcan medical team has not thought it prudent to divulge the information you seek, then it is not up to me to decide differently. I am a First Officer, not a medical consultant.”

“God damn it, man.” McCoy spat out. “One tenth of your remaining population is in a coma, and you’re going to sit by and do nothing?”

“I have taken up duties as appropriate to my knowledge and skill set. If you are not capable of advancing your knowledge after months of study of these individuals, perhaps your skill set lays elsewhere. I am now in danger of arriving late for a meeting. I wish you luck, doctor, but if the team from the Vulcan Science Academy cannot help you, I certainly cannot either.” Spock turned on his heel and walked away, and McCoy could only stare haplessly after him.

 

When it rained, it poured. As soon as he returned to his quarters, his computer screen rang with an incoming call.

_Of course._

Leonard dropped his messenger bag on the floor and flopped down in his chair, eyeing the screen darkly. He waited until the last possible second, and then barked out “Answer.” Her face appeared, larger than life, like she had always been to him.

“Leonard.” Jocelyn sounded relieved. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“You called during one of my rare breaks from the hospital.”

“I know you’re incredibly busy. The coverage about the situation of the Vulcans has been neverending.” She took a deep breath, and Leonard willed his heart not to break. He remembered the feeling of her soft, dark hair between his fingers, remembered how he used to be able to make her blue eyes light up and the corners of her mouth crease. Sometimes he felt like if he could just say the right words, just make the right gesture, they could be back in that same place again. But they couldn’t, they never would be, and he had to bite his tongue before he said something stupid.

“I just want to have this divorced finalized. I-”

“Now is not a good time, Jocelyn.” 

“It’s never a good time!” She replied impatiently. “You had school and residency and experimental procedures for three years. Now you have a Vulcan population to raise back to health. You’re not going to get less busy when you’re posted on a Starship, and I don’t want this to drag on any longer. We both need to move on.”

“We can move on when you give me custody rights to Joanna.” He barked.

“You ran off to join Starfleet, Leonard. You left all of your shit here, and actually got in a shuttle to go half way across the country so that you could run into space. What, you get weekends with Joanna, except you’re in space for five years, so I have to look after her anyway? You’re being unrealistic. You are impulsive, and you chose to run away from this, but you can’t keep running forever.” Colour was rising in her cheeks, and Leonard felt his mouth begin to take flight.

“You’re just being a bitch. You want out of the marriage, and you get to take everything important because I was such a horrible husband? And apparently I’m a horrible father who can’t be allowed around my own daughter? I’m not letting you walk all over me like you did when we were together.”

“I supported you through medical school!” She started to shout, and although he couldn’t see it, he knew her hands were gripped the desk so hard her knuckles were white. “I carried us financially for _three years_ , Leonard. And all I’m asking for 50% of our assets. You don’t get to play the ‘she took everything in the divorce’ card. You left _everything_ , including our daughter. And I’m tired of the lawyer constantly asking if you’re working on a counteroffer, I’m tired of being the only one facing this. Grow up.”

“It’s not like I have the funds as a resident to hire a - “

“I kept half of our liquid assets in the joint account, and moved my half over to a personal account!” Jocelyn exploded, now gesturing wildly. “You _have_ funds, I put those aside for you. I haven’t asked for child support payments, I haven’t asked you for jack shit except to put in a little bit of effort.”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” McCoy shook his head, not looking at the monitor. “I’m fucking exhausted and I don’t want to argue. Call me in a few weeks when you cool down.” He ended the transmission, cutting Jocelyn off right as she opened her mouth. He went and leaned against the wall, trying to let the coldness of the plaster cool his burning face. Then he drew back his fist and punched a hole in the wall.

 

“What happened to your hand?” 

“What?” Leonard asked distractedly, tearing his eyes away from a particularly dry article on psychic damage in empathetic species. Shron, the Andorian physician, waved his antenna to the bandage on McCoy’s right hand.

“It’s.... nothing.” He muttered, running his left hand through his hair.

“You are agitated.”

“The evacuation of all Vulcans to Earth has gone so well, I can’t see why you’d think that.” He spat out. Shron was nonplussed.

“I agree that the reclusiveness of the Vulcan medical sciences team is frustrating. They are not forthcoming at the Federation Meetings either.” This caught Leonard’s attention.

“You’re part of the UFP Emergency Council?” He demanded, turning around sharply. Shron nodded.

“Yes. As I am the lead physician for the Allied Medical Team, my presence is expected. I assume, however, due to the animosity between our two species, it disquiets the Vulcan Elders.”

“But you can send someone in your place, right? If you weren’t able to go.” McCoy stood up, his full height dwarfing the Andorian by almost half a foot.

“Yes, I can.” Shron agreed.

“What if I went in your place?” McCoy demanded. “I’m human, maybe they’ll be more receptive to me.”

“As receptive as the Vulcan medical team has been?” Shron raised a dark blue eyebrow, and McCoy wondered if that was a sign that he had been among humans for too long.

 

Leonard had to do some bargaining. He pulled some strings to allow Shron to experiment with bio-mimetic gel, and those strings turned into the promise of him teaching a xenobiology class for next semester. But three days later, he had an uncomfortable seat in the chambers of the Supreme Council, a large room laid out in parliamentary fashion, split down the middle by an isle with the benches facing each other.

Leonard wasn’t particularly well versed in Vulcan politics, but even he couldn’t help but note that the Council of Elders was far smaller than it should have been. Five elderly Vulcans sat in the front row of the side opposing him, moving slowly and projecting a calm that belied their exhaustion. Leonard was irrationally hopeful.

The rest of the teams, comprising no more than one or two individuals, quickly arrived. The seating arrangement became obvious: Vulcans on the right side of the room, and all non-Vulcans on the left. His own medical counterpart, Aravik, sat across from him, seemingly unaware of McCoy’s presence. By the time everyone came filing in, it was apparent that not all the Vulcans that came were part of teams. McCoy supposed that was only fair. These were meetings to discuss the future of the species, and as such every Vulcan had a right to participate. Many chose to distance themselves from the benches, stony figures standing guard in nooks and crannies.

That was good, Leonard decided. Out of all of them, at least one Vulcan had to see his point of view. Then he saw Spock enter the chambers and take a seat near the Council of Elders, and Bones felt himself slump in his seat, shrugging his shoulders close to his ears.

First on the docket was the planetary survey team. They presented the data from a planet in the Antares sector, an uninhabited class M planet in with no moons but only one sun. It was cooler than Vulcan, with a gravity and atmosphere similar to Earth’s. Pictures showed a planet that reminded Leonard of Kansas: sprawling prairies that you could watch your dog run away for days in. Sarek stood and immediately dismissed the idea. It was too close to the neutral zone for comfort.

Leonard learned he wasn’t the only one frustrated with the Vulcan’s lack of cooperation.

“You’ve dismissed all uninhabited planets within the same distance of Earth, which was one of your concerns.” The Tellarite representative called out somewhere from McCoy’s left. “The planet must be in the beta quadrant, yet you do not wish to be any closer to the Romulan Empire, despite the fact that, according to the report given by Captain Kirk, the destruction of your planet was not at their hands. It isn’t warm enough, the gravity is too low. Unless the Vulcan Sciences Academy has advanced terraforming techniques it has been hiding from the Federation, there will be no one-to-one replacement. You must compromise.”

“The Tellarites are not the ones who must find a new home.” An elder spoke softly, and only because the acoustics were so incredible could Leonard make him out. “This is not a decision to be made lightly.”

“You had best hope that your Earth hosts do not grow tired of you.” He snorted loudly. Leonard couldn’t see the representative’s face, but he could imagine the snarl crossing the snout nose and beady eyes. 

“Thank you, Ambassador bav Cith,” The United Federation President droned loudly from his pulpit. There was an icy tension in the room as he looked down the agenda for the next item.

“The Vulcan Science Academy Medical Team.” Aravik stood up, and nodded towards the president.

“Thank you, President Kandar. All is as stated in our report. No significant strides have been made towards resuscitation in any of the individuals.” McCoy snorted to himself. He had read the report. It subtly noted the failures of the Allied Health Team with very vague wording on the Vulcans’ own process.

“Does the medical team require any additional resources?” Kandar asked. Seeing an opening, McCoy stood up.

“Doctor Leonard McCoy, standing in for Shron Th’resrol as lead on the Allied Medical Team. We would like to request additional resources.” He could feel the stares of the assembly, confused and stifling, but he didn’t pay them any attention.

“What do you request, Doctor McCoy?”

“Sir, I would like to request that the Allied Health Team, and only the Allied Health Team, be given access to whatever remains of Vulcan literature on the physiology, health and medical concerns of the Vulcan people.”

“There is nothing left.” Aravik replied shortly.

“Then I would request greater cooperation from the Vulcan medical team.” He had crossed a line, and he knew it, but the words left him in a desperate rush of frustration and anger. “The allied team knows very little besides the absolute basics of Vulcan physiology, and this is obviously not a physiological concern. Attempting to resuscitate Vulcans using methods recorded from other telepathic species has resulted in no gains, and if the Allied Team were given more information - “

“Doctor McCoy, I understand your concern.” One of the elders spoke, calmly and without the hint of irritation that Leonard had come to know as characteristic of most Vulcans. “However, we as a people are incredibly vulnerable in the current moment. We do not know if there are others that would seek to destroy our remaining population. The Vulcan Sciences Academy has kept certain documentation private for over a century, and we cannot be guaranteed that others would hold onto the need for secrecy as we do. We cannot afford the possibility of this information being exploited to seal the doom of the Vulcan species.” McCoy swallowed against a knot in his throat.

“This is a peacekeeping - “

“McCoy, you have asked your question.” The president drawled. “Thank you. I believe the next item is…”

Leonard grabbed his PADD, and with several bitter “Excuse me”s he found his way off of the bench, and exited the council chambers.

 

The hallways were empty aside from the security team that stuck to the corners and the walls, and McCoy brushed past them without a second thought. He felt the rage boil in his veins, an underlying sense of helplessness acting as kindling to fuel the fire. Of course Vulcans acted as a hive mind, what else had he expected?

“Doctor McCoy.” The voice was low and calm, but carried with a power that made Leonard stop and turn around. A Vulcan was walking calmly towards him, straight and proud with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore traditional Vulcan robes, sweeping and grey, and McCoy had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Mestral.” He replied evenly. “I thought your request was very reasonable. I am sorry that our people are being so uncooperative.” His voice was soft and melodic, lacking the edge of superciliousness that Leonard always associated with Vulcans. He felt a little of the wind being taken out of his sails, a small feeling of vindication edging around the corners of his anger.

“Thank you.” He replied. “For the last few months, I’ve wondered if dissenting opinions were even allowed among you.” A small smile curved at the edge of Mestral’s lips, his dark eyes shining, and McCoy felt a tugging sensation at the back of his mind. So, Vulcans were capable of facial expressions.

“You must forgive us. The Council of Elders is carrying the fear of ten thousand Vulcans. Despite our claim to complete emotional control, we are irrationally tribe-like, especially in such uncertain times. No individual wants to bring the possibility of being socially excluded for having a differing opinion.”

“Except for you, apparently?” McCoy asked. The mirth fell from his face, and Mestral cocked his head to the side in a sad thoughtfulness.

“I am perhaps not as forthcoming as I should be.” McCoy studied him for a moment. At first glance, he had looked like any other Vulcan - same jet black hair and bowl cut, long, pale face with deep set brown eyes. But he was a little broader than most male Vulcans, if still slightly slimmer than Leonard himself, and was tall enough to even dwarf McCoy by an inch or two. Most enticingly, his facial expressions danced across his features in a way that was very unexpected. It made Leonard wary. Wary but hopefully.

“Well, if you want to be forthcoming, I could use your help.” 

“I am not a scientist, nor a healer.” Mestral protested. “I don’t know-”

“There are no healers left. They all died with the planet. In desperate times, you don’t often get the luxury of saying no.” McCoy replied, readying himself for the oncoming long and frustrating battle of wills. For a moment Mestral looked at him with soft, yet calculating eyes and McCoy had the feeling that he was being scanned like a foreign shuttle craft. Mestral's reply was unexpected.

“I believe I have just been manipulated into doing something that I may regret.”

 

When McCoy showed up at the hospital that night, it was quite apparent that he had become a divisive figure in Starfleet Medical. 

“You fucked up.” Doctor Anderson called out as her shock of fluffy red hair passed by, her nose firmly ensconced in her PADD.

“Fucked up what?” He yelled back as he put on his lab coat.

“You know.” She replied absentmindedly, not looking up or back at him. “You should avoid Shron as much as possible.”

His human colleagues were formal and stiff with him, and the Vulcans completely ignored his presence, even forgoing their usual nod upon seeing him. McCoy gritted his teeth and tried to let it all roll off of him. He finally had one Vulcan in his corner, and it was worth whatever the social consequences might be.

 

Jim, as always, had impeccable timing.

“And you knock me for being lazy.” He grinned as McCoy rubbed his eyes crankily.

“I attended that stupid emergency council meeting yesterday afternoon and then had a night shift at the hospital. I was up for 24 hours, Jim.”

“I heard about your meeting.” Jim nodded, leaning against Leonard’s kitchen counter. “I mean, everybody’s heard about the meeting.”

“Are you here for a reason?” He demanded, pressing the button on his coffee maker.

“Bones, I’ve barely seen you since we docked. I just wanted to catch up and…” He trailed off as he caught McCoy’s murderous glare. “Alright, I just wanted to warn you to knock it off. I don’t want you grounded. When The Enterprise is done with her repairs, and we get the go ahead for our first mission, you are going to be on that ship as my CMO, not being tortured or gang raped by Vulcans, or whatever they do.” Bones snorted as he grabbed his coffee.

“With an eye to cultural sensitivity like yours, I’m surprised they didn’t make you captain sooner.”

“I’m serious.” Kirk eyed him with a steely look, a shroud of seriousness falling across his features that Leonard rarely saw. He realized that, at some point in the last 6 months, Jim had aged in years, and he wondered when he had become such a shitty friend that he hadn’t noticed. “I only became a captain because you snuck me on board. I couldn’t have done it without you, and I can’t do it without you the next time. Don’t get in shit political fights down here, because I need you to do more important things up there.” Jim looked towards the ceiling and back towards McCoy, an open challenge in his eye.

It was a challenge Bones couldn’t meet. He felt the little twist in his gut, the reminder of all the times he had been relied upon and had been unable to meet the burden of being needed. Jim knew him, knew him as well as anyone ever would, and despairingly Leonard realized that he had once again fooled someone into believing him to be more than he was. 

He snorted.

“Nice speech. I can see Pike taught you well.”

“If I had to hear that shit for three years, you can listen to it once.” Jim winked. “Now I’ve just come from teaching a tactics course to a bunch of shit-for-brains. I think it’s time to start drinking.”

“What time is it?” McCoy dragged his tired eyes to the clock on the stove. 14:45. “Shit. You’ve gotta go. I’ve got company coming.” He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

“Really?” Jim’s eyes brightened, blue and electric, and he took a few steps closer. “Bones has someone coming over. I can only assume it’s for-”

“None of your business.”

“C’mon, it’s been nothing but doom and gloom since the destruction of Vulcan.” Jim pleaded. “All I want is a slight taste of normality.”

“And me not telling you my business is perfectly normal.” Bones replied. “Get out.” The stupid smile didn’t leave Jim’s face as he moved towards the door.

“Just so you know, the shirtless, low hanging sweat pants thing is super hot. Don’t change.” 

 

By the time Mestral arrived, Leonard had found a half-decent shirt and some jeans that still fit rather well, and even managed to give his small space a quick tidy. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much, but it felt important that, even if he didn’t manage to impress Mestral, that he didn’t disgust him.

Mestral was, of course, exceedingly punctual. The chime at the door rang the moment that his clock showed 15:00:00, and he hurriedly put away the last dish in the kitchenette before answering. 

The Vulcan stood before him, now clothed in typical Starfleet attire - a black shirt and trousers, the golden insignia embedded above where a human heart would be. He held a bottle in his hand, gazing softly at McCoy, looking unsure but hopeful in a way that made his gut wrench for a second time that day.

“Hello.” Mestral said. “I have heard that it is an earth custom to bring gifts to those who invite you into their homes.” McCoy resisted the urge to snort.

“Believe me, I should give you a gift for being willing to come to this hovel.” He reached out and took the bottle, giving Mestral a flash of a smile. He turned the bottle around, and whistled as he saw the characters on the label. “Is this really Romulan Ale?” He asked.

“Indeed.” McCoy ushered him in, running his fingers over the Klingon lettering and examining the amber glass in the light.

“This stuff is illegal. I’m impressed. How did you get it?” Mestral smiled, beaming and bright.

“I was part of the diplomatic team assigned to entice Betazed into the federation. Being so close to the Romulan Empire, it is much simpler to acquire forbidden goods.”

“Betazed, huh?” McCoy asked, setting the bottle down on the kitchen counter. He looked curiously at his companion. “Aren’t we still negotiating with them?”

“Yes.” Mestral agreed, standing with a military uprightness that seemed inherent to all Vulcans. “Upon the destruction of my home planet, all Vulcans who were living abroad were called to Earth.” McCoy bit his bottom lip, unsure of what to say. 

“There is nothing to be said.” Mestral replied to the unspoken question. Leonard looked at him for a moment, surprised, but then his eyes darkened with understanding.

“Telepaths. Right.”

“I do not need telepathic ability. Most humans lack words when the subject is brought up.” He replied kindly.

“Is that why you’re so different from other Vulcans?” McCoy asked before he could stop himself. “I mean, just being around Betazoids… they’re always just so…”

“Demonstrative.” Mestral agreed. “Very in tune with emotion and nuance. What Vulcans might sense but never speak of, Betazoids seem compelled to bring to the forefront. It was a very… refreshing change.” McCoy nodded, and then felt like a jackass.

“Sit wherever you like. Actually, probably in the dining area. The table will give us space to work.” He waved at a small wooden table with two chairs in the corner. Mestral nodded and sat himself down, taking out various files from the messenger bag slung on his shoulder. McCoy followed, watching his graceful movements and the deftness of his hands as he sorted and piled. It was an elegance that seemed innate to all Vulcans, but McCoy had never found himself so fascinated by it before.

“Most of the research done by the Vulcan Sciences Academy has been preserved, as a secondary database was decentralized in order to provide Vulcans living off-planet with needed information. However the latest research, from approximately a month prior to the destruction of Vulcan, is not available, as the articles had not been uploaded from the central database.”

 _So much for there being nothing available_. Leonard thought bitterly to himself. The stack of papers Mestral made looked to be about a foot tall, and peering over slightly, McCoy could see the top article was in Vulcan script. 

“I attempted to run these articles through a translator, but unfortunately so many of the terms have never been discussed with non-Vulcans that the translator could only make literal and nonsensical translations.”

“You printed all of these articles out. On paper.” McCoy raised an eyebrow.

“As you should well know, doctor, every database is capable of tracking who accessed the information, at what time, and where. I don’t want to bring the wrath of the council down on me.” McCoy opened his hands in a placating gesture.

“No, no! I’m grateful. It’s just very retro, that’s all.” Once again there was a slight upturn at the edges of Mestral’s lips, and Leonard couldn’t help but wonder if he graced everyone with such easy smiles.

“You are not wrong,” he took the top third of the papers and separated them into a second pile. “These ones are the articles available on Vulcan healers. They are different from our doctors. Unfortunately, healing is such an ancient profession, going back to the pre-Surak time period, that it is a bit of a… sacred cow, as you might say in Standard. In comparison to other topics, not much is written regarding their methods or training.” McCoy nodded.

“I’ll take what I can get.” He strummed his fingers lightly on the desk, watching as Mestral’s eyes reviewed the Vulcan script. “Do you have any guesses on what might be going on with these Vulcans?” He asked. Mestral looked up at him.

“Psychic shock, which you may have guessed.” He peered at McCoy, as if debating whether he were trustworthy. “Part of it is likely that the the comatose Vulcans have all lost their bondmates. They were destroyed with the planet.”

“Bond mates?” McCoy asked, frowning. Metral nodded.

“Yes. When we are children, we are bonded to another child. It is… most likely it is closest to what you would consider an engagement. However, we are psychically linked to them. Until the destruction of Vulcan, it was a practice that I thought we would see diminishing. When we joined the federation, and began to have a… larger dating pool, many of these bonds forged in childhood were severed by both parties as an adult, something never heard of before we achieved warp.” He shook his head, as if chasing away unwanted memories. “However, it is not uncommon that Vulcans keep the bond created in childhood. When a Vulcan’s partner dies, especially if it is due to causes other than old age, the psychic shock can be tremendous for an individual.”

“Often resulting in a comatose state?” Mestral shook his head.

“No. Usually these individuals suffer for a period of time in what we call ‘The nothing state’. They are unable to complete their duties, and must be reminded to eat and dress and do all the simple tasks of daily living. However, while the Vulcan Sciences Academy suspects this is part of the problem, it would not explain all of it.” McCoy nodded.

“Do you have any idea what the rest of it could involve?” Mestral sighed, not angrily, but with a wide-eyed thoughtfulness. When they weren’t being judgemental assholes, McCoy decided, Vulcans were actually quite attractive.

“We assume it has something to do with the destruction of our planet. However, we cannot test a definite cause and effect, which is frustrating for us. I should note that all Vulcans are suffering from psychic and psychological effects. Even among non-comatose individuals, cognitive processing is slow. It maybe be difficult for a non-Vulcan to ascertain, but speech patterns are slower, rates of insomnia have increased, and we, as a species, are more withdrawn. We are all suffering from classic signs of what humans would consider to be depression.” Leonard nodded. 

“With this research, I thought we could review the methods that healers use when treating psychic shock or severing a bond. If we can solve one problem, perhaps the rest will be easier.” McCoy got up and took his chair so he and Mestral were sitting side by side. Mestral stiffened slightly, but McCoy tried not to take it personally.

“Lead on, McDuff.” Mestral looked at him curiously.

“Are you aware that that particular line was never actually said in Macbeth?” McCoy groaned.

 

They worked through the papers, Mestral providing a very complete and thorough translation for the texts. Leonard couldn’t help but feel honoured by the man’s dedication and willingness to trust him. It was a rare commodity in Vulcans, although as he got to know the diplomat more, the more he understood that he was quite different.

“Wait, go back to that last sentence.” McCoy commanded.

“The plant, containing three methyl groups and an amino group bound to a phenyl ring, is given to the patient to chew. The plant increases feelings of euphoria and, according to the healers, provides a ‘gateway’ to begin the process of psychic healing.”

“Mescaline.” McCoy breathed. “That… makes sense. It’s unexpected, but that makes sense. Stimulates sympathetic arousal.” Mestral raised an eyebrow, and McCoy raised one back.

“You have an idea?” Mestral asked.

“I have an idea.” McCoy confirmed.

 

Attaining psychedelics was simple enough. Often used in low doses to treat alcoholism and depression, the drugs were also freely available for recreational use. Peyote itself was rather trendy at the moment, and head shops and pharmacies carried it in abundance. 

Leonard was unsure of how the Vulcan research team would react to him drugging up a patient. Surprisingly, the response was what Leonard could have sworn was amusement.

“Mescaline? Is there a hypothesis behind this?” Avarik asked.

“Stimulation of the sympathetic nervous system, stimulation of serotonin - might induce mental arousal.” He replied. Avarik cocked his head.

“You may try it, doctor. I suggest testing it on patients 003, 476 and 859. Please keep the doses low. Many Earth inhabitants may have developed a tolerance, but usage of such psychoactive drugs is not the norm on Vulcan.”

McCoy intravenously gave each Vulcan 0.3 grams of mescaline. He could have punched Avarik for his smugness when nothing changed.

 

“I take it the mescaline did not have the desired effects?” Mestral said as he entered McCoy’s apartment.

“No.” McCoy paced frustratedly. “I mean, there were variations in the delta waves of all three patients, but not enough to wake ‘em up. The effects only lasted half an hour, and then everything was the same as it was. I’d try it in higher doses, but even your articles only estimate that ‘up to’ 500 miligrams were consumed, and we don’t have any information on the effects of psychedelics in healthy individuals, nevermind sick ones.” Mestral nodded and sat down at the dining table, taking out his papers.

“The article stated the plant was a precursor to a mind meld. Perhaps it is a case where one does not work without the other.”

“OK then. I try it again, and ask one of the Vulcans to mindmeld and see what’s going on in there.” Mestral shook his head.

“I know the Vulcan Sciences Academy team has attempted to meld with the comatose individuals. However, it seems that the trauma each Vulcan experienced multiplies when melding with another Vulcan. The experience is frightening for the initiator of the meld, and ineffective for the comatose individual.” McCoy sighed, and pounded his hand on the table lightly.

“Great. That’s just… wonderful.” Mestral gave him one of those thoughtful intense gazes that left McCoy feeling oddly naked, reduced to a bundle of nerves and impulses. “Do you just… effect that?” The diplomat gave him a questioning glance.

“I’m sorry?”

“That. Just… all your facial expressions. I’ve never seen a Vulcan as emotive as you are. That can’t come naturally to you. Do you just do it for my benefit?” A slight green tinge bloomed on Mestral’s face, but he did not drop eye contact.

“In a sense, I suppose. I found the Betazoids to be much more welcoming when I adapted their emotiveness. Even in telepathic species, body language and facial expressions are important cues. Over time, I’ve become accustomed to it. It isn’t that Vulcans lack emotion, as many believe, but that we school it better. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can attempt to become more stoic.” This time McCoy blushed, feeling guilty for opening his fat mouth again.

“No! It… it suits you. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” There was a moment of silence where they simply watched each other. Leonard’s mind wandered, couldn’t help but wonder if that expressiveness would find its way into the bedroom, if his eyes would like up and his voice would go lower with arousal…

He coughed and looked down, trying to divert his mind. It was a ridiculous thought. Even if he wasn’t as emotionally damaged as he was, there was nothing good that would come from shacking up with a Vulcan.

A tiny sliver of him wondered if Mestral had been able to parse out his thoughts, had caught onto the thread of his desire and could yank it out at will… he didn’t know if the idea was arousing or terrifying. Either way, it was also very foolish. Over the course of their previous research, he became aware that Vulcans were touch telepaths. As long as there was no skin to skin contact, all of his dirty thoughts were his alone to stew in.

“I had a thought after our last session.” Mestral started cautiously, and Leonard focused his attention back on the matter at hand. “I think it might be beneficial if a Vulcan acted as a conduit from a comatose mind to another’s mind, the mind of someone who has not been traumatized by the loss of Vulcan.”

“We’d need another telepathic species for that, right?” Mestral shook his head.

“No. A Vulcan should be able to bridge the non-telepathic gap. I was thinking that you would be an excellent candidate.” McCoy sputtered.

“Me?”

“Yes. You have… there is a term in Vulcan for it, but essentially a true healer’s spirit. The desire to help at any cost, the selflessness required to fully give yourself to another being’s aide. You may not have the technical skill that a Vulcan healer would have, but I think it is possible that just your presence…” Mestral looked down, in a motion that McCoy couldn’t understand. “... that just your presence could have a healing effect.” Leonard closed his eyes and swallowed. He had always had a faint distrust of telepathic species, his private nature deeply ingrained with defensiveness and sarcasm. The idea made him uncomfortable.

Yet, Mestral was different. This situation was different. Squeamishness was a luxury no one could afford.

“I know that for a non-telepathic species, the idea is very disconcerting.” Mestral replied to his unspoken discomfort.

“You’d have to be the bridge.” Leonard replied. He wasn’t sure where the request had come from, but he realized it was true. Mestral had put himself out on a limb to help McCoy, and he was the only Vulcan that Leonard could even begin to trust rooting around in his mind. They were both adults - any attraction that Mestral came across would be handled with sensitivity and carefulness. Logically, there was nothing to fear.

Mestral’s eyes widened with surprise.

“I… I have never initiated a mindmeld before, or been bonded. I would lack the finesse required to - “

“It’s never too late to learn.” McCoy replied. “Besides, it’s either you or no one. I don’t think I could have one of the others in my head.” Mestral took a large swallow, and for a moment Leonard thought that he could sense the Vulcan’s emotion. It felt a lot like hunger.

“I… I can attempt.”

 

Their next meeting was the next night in Mestral’s quarters. Leonard almost felt like a spy as he slipped down the hallways, carefully checking around corners to ensure he wouldn't run into anyone. Mestral had asked for a certain degree of secrecy, as he was concerned that other Vulcans would not take his allegiance with a human very well. It wasn't in McCoy's nature to slink around the ambassadorial building, but it was a small price to pay for what he was being given in return.

When he finally made it to Mestral's quarters unmolested, he thought it was well worth the intrigue. Mestral had been given an ambassadorial suite, despite not being on Earth for purposes related to his title. McCoy looked around and couldn’t help but whistle as he took in the large apartment. The kitchen was laid out in the same manner of his own, but was made from marble rather than cheap synthetic materials. The dining room, rather than being an afterthought of the kitchen’s floor space, was a room completely unto itself, a twelve foot mahogany table glistening under a chandelier. At the entrance was a large, open room with plush chairs and an adjustable table.

“Diplomats are afforded extra room for entertainment purposes.” The Vulcan provided, seeming almost uncomfortable with his embarrassment of riches. McCoy shook his head and chuckled.

“I definitely got into the wrong profession.”

“It can be quite taxing.” Mestral replied. He was wearing Vulcan robes, and McCoy couldn’t help but notice how regal and powerful they made him look. The angular cut of the shoulders created hard lines, the flow of the robes minute and intoxicating. The dark green emphasized the forest brown of his eyes, the blackness of his hair…

He realized that Mestral was glancing questioningly at the paper bag that McCoy had in his hands.

“Oh! This is Vulcan Spice tea.” Leonard set the gift on the table. “I found some traders who were selling it. I figured the last of it deserved to be an actual Vulcan.” Mestral went over and opened it up, taking a small sniff of the aroma.

“It must have been very expensive.” 

“It wasn’t that bad.” McCoy brushed him off. Sure, he had had to diagnose a man with poor hygiene with a rare xeno strain of genital herpes, but he had seen worse in his medical career. 

“Thank you. This gift is incredibly thoughtful.” Mestral said quietly. Leonard felt himself glow under the praise, but quickly brushed it aside.

“So, what do we need to do to get the mind meld started?” He asked.

“This trial run will be exceedingly formal. Most Vulcans don’t need to go to such lengths for a simple meld, but due to my inexperience I thought it best to attempt it under optimal circumstances to enhance my accuracy and control.”

“You said that you have never had a bond.” McCoy asked, regarding the nervous Vulcan curiously. “But you also said that Vulcan children are bonded from birth.”

“Both are true.” Mestral acknowledged. “When I was two years of age, my parents were called on a decade long diplomatic assignment to Andoria. Rather than leave me on Vulcan to be educated, they took me with them. By the time we returned to Vulcan, it was obvious that I was a homosexual, and by Vulcan tradition, homosexuals do not bond.”

“Oh.” It had never occurred to Leonard that Vulcans experienced sexuality. They were so closed off and passionless, he had subconsciously imagined mating to be a duty rather than a pleasure. “Why can’t you bond with another male? You can’t be the only gay Vulcan.”

“Bonds are for the cohesiveness of family.” Mestral replied. “As homosexuals will, by default, be incapable of producing offspring it is not traditionally done if a child shows aversion to heterosexuality. Homosexual Vulcans may choose to bond in later life if they find a partner, but I have never had a relationship where I thought such an intimate gesture was warranted.” Leonard frowned.

“That seems homophobic.”

“Perhaps by Earth standards.” He agreed. “But it is not a slight on Vulcan. Merely a matter of practicality. There is no shame or social stigma associated with same sex attraction.” McCoy shrugged.

“You’re better off that way. Being bonded to someone and then discovering you hate each other later in life would be shitty. You can’t guarantee anything will last forever, and when you go in hoping it does, it just comes crashing down. The entire ‘til death do us part’ thing is shitty. And unrealistic.” Mestral’s dark eyes peered at him, as if he was looking through McCoy.

“I don’t believe that you are truly that cynical, doctor.”

“Call me Leonard. Or McCoy. Whichever.” Leonard said, not looking at the Vulcan. “Now, what do we do to start this process off?”

 

McCoy was a little thankful he wasn’t told there would be meditation involved, because his mind ran like a gerbil in a wheel and he would have been intimidated. Having it sprung on him… wasn’t much better, but he was in too deep now to refuse.

The subtle scent of some unpronounceable Vulcan herb washed over them, and the light in the fireplace glowed brightly. They had settled into Mestral’s quarters, which were as grand as the rest of the apartment, with various Vulcan artifacts hanging from the wall and a fire in the hearth.

He didn’t know how long they had been there, but it felt like an eternity and McCoy’s body ached to move. Instead, he cracked open an eye to watch Mestral. They were seated face to face, the flames casting long shadows, deepening the pale lines of his face. Even though Mestral’s expression was blank, it didn’t have the same aloofness that McCoy would expect. Instead, he looked like a canvas that would bloom with the colours of spring if the right painter could be found. A painter who could play with the cupid’s bow of his lip, find the hollows of his cheek and collar bones and wrap the shadows around them. A blank slate for Leonard to imprint on, to call his own...

Mestral’s eyes opened, the dark brown seemingly endless pools of calm. Leonard was tempted to be embarrassed at being caught staring, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away, and the Vulcan just held his gaze.

“I believe I am ready.” He said, his voice low and hypnotic. Leonard felt his mouth go dry, so he simply nodded. Mestral reached out his long fingers and tentatively touched McCoy’s face, connecting with his psi points. He had to fight the urge to lean into the touch, and he could help but wonder when the last time someone had touched him so intimately.

“My mind to yours…” McCoy closed his eyes.

At first, there was only a little nudge at the edge of his consciousness, like he had forgotten something that he was struggling to remember. Then it felt like dawn - a slow, steady sunrise in his mind, a glorious light that the darkness receded in front of.

Suddenly his entire world was awash in light, and everything was revealed. All of his dark moments and thoughts - fleeing from Georgia, fighting with Jocelyn, taking control of sickbay after Puri’s death, his failures as a father - stood stark and naked. His desires, desires he hadn’t known he had, came to the forefront - the need to perfect his kills as a physician, the want for the perfect family, the fierce desire to protect Joanna. Mostly, he felt a neediness rise - the need to be touched, caressed, and to do so in return, the need for a confidante and the emotional intimacy he had shunned after the divorce. It roared to life like a fire inside him, and Leonard gasped and opened his eyes to stare straight into Mestral’s.

It was all he could see, all he could feel, and he could tell by the desire in the Vulcan’s eyes that he felt it too, that overwhelming need. Leonard couldn’t help himself - he moved, crawling forward slowly as to not interrupt Mestral’s finger placement. The Vulcan looked on, dark and commanding, daring him to come close, and Leonard couldn’t say no. He raised his hand and settled it above Mestral’s knee. At the Vulcan’s intake of breath, Leonard became more daring, using a firmer pressure to push his hand higher…

Mestral broke the contact and scrambled to his feet, breathing hard. Leonard did the same, his heart beating wildly, a vulnerable uncertainty flitting across his face.

“I apologise, doctor. I believe I need more time to prepare to have a successful meld.”

“It’s Leonard, and I-”

“I believe it’s time for you to leave, doctor.” Mestral commanded, his voice high and panicked. McCoy debated internally. He wanted to push, to break whatever wall Mestral was attempting to put between them, to see this out to the end. And yet...

“OK.” Leonard held up placating palms, but looked away, frustrated and unfulfilled. He walked out of Mestral’s bedroom, grabbed his bag and left the apartment before he could say or do something stupid. Mestral did not follow.

 

That night, Leonard dreamt. He dreamt of slender fingers carding through his hair, fingers that pushed down through the skin and the bone and caught all of his fears and anxieties and pulled them out like gnats. He dreamt of a presence - inside, outside, all around him - that filled all the gaps and holes he didn’t know he had, sealed him in a cocoon of warmth. A pressure was slowly building, one that started in his groin and spread outward. His entire body began to tingle, every nerve burning with need… And there was an answer to his desire, another energy that matched his own and built up to a crescendo…

Leonard awoke in the early hours of the morning, gasping and sweating, with a large wet spot at the front of his sweatpants.

“Fuck.” He muttered half-heartedly. Somehow he was completely drained, and yet so much more alive than he could ever remember being. He felt the cool air and the rough cotton sheets on his skin, could smell the stale scent of bachelorhood, and these sensations passed through his mind, unjudged and unencumbered. He wondered if this was what meditation was supposed to be like.

The time passed, and the sun rose higher in the sky. Leonard felt the grime of dried bodily fluids, and knew he had to get up and shower. But first, he reached for his PADD, and started typing a message.

 

He visited Mestral again that night, and once again the Vulcan was waiting for him, this time dressed in Starfleet attire. He looked troubled, small downward lines at the edges of his mouth and eyes.

“Leonard.” He greeted. “I have to apologise. I did not mean to intrude upon your mind to the extent that I did, and I took advantage of-” Leonard shook his head vigorously.

“It’s fine. You warned me you were untrained, and I wanted to go ahead with it anyway. You didn’t take advantage of me. We just have to work at this.” Mestral looked uncertain.

“I am unsure if it is wise to-”

“You’re the one who suggested it.” McCoy felt his ire rising, the idea that this had all been some kind of unfortunate happenstance too much to bear. “This entire situation isn’t easy on anyone, we can’t step away from trying to find solutions at the first bit of discomfort.” Mestral nodded wearily.

“Let’s do it again.”

“Perhaps more rest is in order for a second attempt.” McCoy shook his head.

“No. One thousand Vulcans have been in a coma long enough. If this doesn’t work, we’ll need to think of alternative treatments. We can’t waste any more time.” Mestral offered a half smile.

“You are an extraordinary, if exhausting, human, Leonard.”

“Not extraordinary. Just desperate.” He brushed off the praise and sat on one of the bar stools around the kitchen island, and fixed his eyes on Mestral expectantly.

“Right here?” 

“You’re going to have to do it at a bedside, in less than ideal conditions.” McCoy responded. “Best get used to uncomfortable settings.”

“Of course.” Mestral agreed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For a moment, Leonard thought that he would have second thoughts, but those soft fingers made their way towards his psi points.

“My mind to your mind…”

Leonard felt the first tentative touches at the edge of his mind again, and he braced himself for the coming onslaught. The light came again, but this time it was dulled in its intensity, and it illuminated everything with soft glow rather than burning it out. It comfortingly crawled along, without hurry, and Leonard found himself reaching out to touch it, wanting to rush into the golden wave and see if it would be as cool and refreshing as the ocean. Clumsily he forced himself into the light, passing through without struggle. Scenes passed by him, fragments of time that he didn’t understand. 

_The boy in front of him was beautiful, blue skin almost translucent in the moonlight. He yearned to reach out and touch, to see if it would cool his fever, but it was improper for the child of an ambassador, and everything seemed to be improper for the child of an ambassador…_

_The plak tow burned through him, and he thought he might die, might burn up in the madness, and there was shame and regret overpowered by the strong desire to keep thrusting, that with each movement his time can nearer to ending, and there was no attraction to Skorrev but just a need that would not go away…_

_He could feel the Betazoids around him subconsciously reaching out, trying to flip through his thoughts absentmindedly, as if idly turning the pages in a book. On Vulcan, this was rude. On Betazed, it was the way of life, and as the foreigner, it was up to him to adapt._

The further he waded the darker the ocean became, changing from the yellow of the sunlight to a deep blue. Something pulled him under - something possessive, clinging, but Leonard didn’t feel the urge to struggle. The water was familiar, that echo of the same need inside of him that Mestral had stumbled upon before. That same intensity built within him, and the longer he went without air, the greater the burn grew all over his body, and he allowed himself to be dragged down even further…

Leonard didn’t know who reached out for who, or if they came together like charged particles, but suddenly Mestral’s mouth was on his, harsh and demanding, and McCoy answered it with a strength and power of his own. He moved to push Mestral against the counter, but the Vulcan caught him and lifted him onto the kitchen island, following him with a hard bite to his neck that made Leonard moan.

The desire to touch and be touched was overwhelming, and both men frantically palmed at any bare inch of skin as zippers and buttons were undone and clothing disappeared to corners of the room. His cock was hard, almost painfully so, and when Mestral pressed against his body, McCoy’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Mestral leaned in for another kiss, biting at Leonard’s lips as he gave a hard pinch to the doctor’s left nipple. McCoy hissed in pleasure, rocking his hips against Mestral’s with violent need. Mestral responded by lifting Leonard’s calves over his shoulders and holding Leonard's hips down with bruising fingers. Then, he felt a nudge - a large nudge - at his perineum, and fear overtook him. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but Mestral stole his air, bit his lips, and he couldn’t make a sound, his heart leaping in his throat. Mestral’s cock aligned with his hole, his head nudging the muscle in a small kiss, and he slowly inched his way inward.

Leonard was surprised, and thankful, with how easily Mestral slid into him, the stretch of his sphincter providing intense shivers that rippled throughout his body. As he continued to feed Leonard his cock, the doctor felt something wet slide between his cheeks, and for a moment he worried he was bleeding. But the liquid was too slow, too viscous, making lazy trails towards the counter, and he realized that it must be lubricant. Some sort of naturally occurring lubricant.

Then Mestral was fully sheathed inside the doctor’s body, and Leonard gave himself over to the goosebumps that tickled his flesh, made his dark nipples stand at attention. He stared at the Vulcan, his pale skin flushed a dark green, eye wild yet focused, lips plump from McCoy’s attention. Leonard reached up and grabbed the back of his head and pushed their lips together again, the soft tissue puffed up for more abuse, his hands making a mess of the flawless hair.

Mestral’s breaths came out of his nose in hard puffs, matching the punishing, frantic rhythm of his hips. McCoy wasn’t sure what sounds he was making, but he thought me might be screaming into Mestral’s mouth as he hit his prostate over and over, made him feel so stuffed that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.

“Oh fuck.” He wailed, breaking the kiss. “Need you… harder…” Somehow Mestral managed to thrust even more forcefully, the Vulcan’s hip bones digging into the soft flesh of Leonard’s ass with every thrust. His legs squeezed around Mestral, urging him on even though he didn’t know if his poor, abused hole could take any more. The lubricant made obscene squelching sounds between them, sounds that went right to his dripping cock, and Leonard wondered if he screamed loud enough if the other ambassadors would be able to hear him in their quarters. 

“Leonard!” Mestral sounded shocked, but signalled his pleasure by making one deep thrust, which was followed by almost helpless aftershocks as he shot his load deep into McCoy. Leonard gave his cock a quick pump before following helplessly, his come splattering onto his chest in long strings.

Mestral looked at him, eyes dark with fading arousal and fondness, and McCoy almost got hard again just seeing how debauched the Vulcan looked. His short hair stood in odd directions, his face was green with beads of sweat trailing down his face, his lips plush and abused. Then he took a finger and swirled it in Leonard’s semen before bringing it to his mouth and licking it off with long, broad strokes of his tongue. They both shuddered with pleasure, and Mestral’s softening cock fell out of his ass with a satisfying wet plop.

“You know,” McCoy propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s better when it’s directly from the source.” Mestral raised an amused eyebrow.

“I’ve always wondered what human ejaculate would take like. It is quite satisfying.” Leonard groaned and closed his eyes.

“You’re going to kill me. Speaking of which…” he opened his eyes again. “Vulcan dicks self-lubricate?”

“Of course.” Mestral smiled and stepped away from the island, moving over to the sink. “The climate of Vulcan is very dry. It is not advantageous to rely on one partner to provide lubrication. Also, sex between Vulcans can be quite rough, and it is not desirable to have a partner damaged while engaging in intercourse.” He reappeared with a wet cloth for Leonard, who began to wipe down his chest.

“Huh. So, does the anus self-lubricate as well?” Mestral laughed and shook his head.

“Unfortunately, Vulcan biology does not lend itself any better to homosexual acts than human biology does.” McCoy nodded, and looked on in amusement as he saw Mestral’s gaze settle between his legs, on his reddened and leaking hole. “I very much enjoyed our conjugation, Leonard.” The pad of his fingers reached out and lightly trailed around the flesh, and McCoy gasped at the slightly painful, teasing sensation.

“I did too.” He squeaked. Mestral’s bottom lip dropped slightly, and then two of his fingers were in Leonard, stroking his walls and lightly testing the stretch of his sphincter. Leonard cried out, and his cock gave a half-hearted jump.

“I do not mean to impose on you, or to seek some greater meaning where there is not one. However, I can only hope that this will not be a stand-alone event.” Leonard felt a little dizzy, and wondered if the hope that sprang forth in his chest were purely his own.

“That's doable." He agreed.

 

Catching Uhura on campus was rare, rarer than finding any of the other crew members. She had been drafted into some sort of highly top secret communications project team, and McCoy imagined that she spent her days locked in a windowless cell, listening to subspace communications of Romulans' dirty talking to each other.

However, sometimes the stars were willing to align, and that was how he managed to wave her down. She flashed him her supermodel grin and opened up her arms for a hug.

“Leonard!” When they parted, she eyed him up and down disapprovingly. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone’s eating very well these day.” He replied. “Too much to do. So, would you do me the honour of accompanying me for dinner?”

“Leonard, it’s breakfast.” She tsked. 

“I’m still getting steak.”

 

True to his word, Leonard ordered steak and eggs at the campus cafe, and Uhura had some God-awful hippie food with granola and activated almonds.

“So how has work been?” He asked. She smiled coyly around a spoonful of granola.

“You know I can’t talk about it. How has Starfleet Medical been?”

“A huge clusterfuck of disappointments. You know that.” They both grinned. “Look, I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Oh?”

“Something that cannot leave this table. It’s secrecy is equal to the level of whatever you’re working on now, if not higher.” Uhura put her right palm to her left breast and gave him a solemn look.

“The words spoken here will not be repeated to anyone. I invoke an aura of silence. This conversation never happened.” McCoy took a deep breath.

“Good, good.” She eyed him curiously.

“Wow, you’re really serious.” McCoy ignored her, sawing through the tough beef almost mindlessly.

“Look, I met this Vulcan and… things got heated. I just… what is being with a Vulcan like?” He blurted out. Uhura’s eyebrows went to the roof.

“Wait, you just met a Vulcan and then fucked? Are you sure it was a Vulcan? Because it’s not really a cultural thing for them to go and just fuck the first stranger they come across. Especially the women.”

“It was a man.” Leonard popped a piece of steak into his mouth. Uhura abandoned her breakfast entirely.

“You. Had sex. With a male Vulcan?”

“Yeah.” Uhura smiled an incredulous grin.

“I wasn’t aware that you were that charming that you could get a Vulcan into bed. Or that you’d sleep with a guy. I thought you were as straight as they came.”

“Of course, only a linguist would be bothered with labels.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. The point is that I like him. He’s not like other Vulcans.”

“Obviously.”

“But I don’t… with the future of Vulcans so unsure right now, I don’t know what will… he wants to keep seeing me. The future is uncertain, because of all the stuff going on with Vulcan now. But in case… in case something works out… what is dating a Vulcan like?” Uhura looked at him thoughtfully, her eyes soft and kind.

“As you know, they’re going through a tough time right now. Ordinarily, Vulcans are very much the ‘mate for life’ types. They don’t do casual dating, or sleep around. It took almost a year to convince Spock that I’d be worth any trouble he had to go through. But with the population more than decimated, they’re closing their ranks. There is encouragement from the Council of Elders to ‘fuck for Vulcan’ to bring numbers back up, regardless if an individual is straight or gay, or even likes the person they sleep with. Anything begun in this climate is… uncertain.” She replied. McCoy frowned.

“Wait, has Spock…?”

“He hasn’t said anything.” She shook her head. “But Vulcans aren’t only secretive at a societal level, it runs at a deeply personal level too. You can never be exactly sure of what they are thinking or feeling. Initially, you have to have a lot of trust that what is being left unsaid isn’t something you need to know about. But you’ll never find a partner truer or more reliable than a Vulcan, if you can get over it.”

“How about that ‘they seem to answer questions before you say them’ thing. Can you train them not to do that?” Uhura’s eyes widened.

“That’s never been an issue with Spock and me. I daresay your Vulcan paramour may be a little more attentive than mine.” Leonard groaned.

“Now you’re making me feel old.”

“OK, give me the details.” Uhura leaned in conspiratorally. “So, did you have anal sex?”

“Nyota.” Leonard groaned, but couldn’t look at her.

“You did! You totally did! Who bottomed? It can’t be you. Vulcans are impressive below the belt, and nothing that large could ever fit up your tight ass.” McCoy started shovelling in his breakfast, but he couldn’t stop the tinge of red that came to his cheeks. Uhura almost exploded with glee.

“You didn’t! Leonard!” she hissed with mock consternation. “But it can’t have been a quick and dirty fuck then. I can only imagine-”

“If I give you details, will you _stop talking_?” Leonard growled, an egg particle flying to the next table over. Nyota giggled.

“Only if the details you give are good.” McCoy sighed.

“We were in his place, he fucked me on the kitchen counter - “ Uhura flapped her hand in front of her face, mimicking a fan. “-and it was pretty quick but pretty fantastic. It might be because I haven’t had sex in two years, but it felt pretty damn good.” Uhura gave him the side eye.

“It took me a week before Spock and I could have sex without pain. How did you-”

“I did NOT need to imagine Spock’s sex life!” He groaned, shifting uncomfortably. Nyota’s face lit up as she made the connections in her superpowered brain.

“Oh my god. You have a collection of anal toys. That you use. Frequently.” Her face reminded him of every preppy girl in high school when they had seen the picture of him dead drunk, unconscious and except for a moustache that had been sharpied on. A mixture of glee, horror and untold potential danced in her eyes.

“It’s a hobby that a lot of guys enjoy, and I-”

“This has been the most amazing breakfast ever. We need to do this more often. And you need to keep me updated on your relationship!” She winked at him, and McCoy groaned.

 

For another week, Mestral and Leonard practiced their mind melds. Slowly, they both mastered a greater level of control, with Mestral being able to enter his mind more unobtrusively, and McCoy able to avoid getting sucker punched by the plethora of emotions and memories. The sex continued to be fabulous, if less rushed and explosive. Their love making slowly began to engender a quality of sweetness, slow and languid and existing in a time all its own. Leonard couldn’t even remember feeling this unencumbered, this connected. His time with Mestral left him more relaxed than he had been since he started medical school, and he couldn’t help but wonder when he had become so uptight and rigid.

When they decided they were ready, Leonard chose a night shift to make their attempt. He wasn’t actually scheduled, but most of the doctors could be found wandering around Starfleet Medical even when they weren’t supposed to be there. Armed with a small dose of mescaline and Mestral by his side, he activated the privacy shields. For a moment, he fiddled with the hypospray indecisively.

“You are worried.” Mestral stated.

“Aren’t you?” Leonard demanded, looking at him curiously.

“Of course. I simply didn’t expect hesitation from you at this juncture.” Leonard bit his lip.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together.” He admitted quietly. “I don’t want it to end if this works.” Mestral’s eyes seemed to lighten, as if a heavy burden had been removed.

“If our hypothesis does indeed bear out, I don’t see why our personal relationship should come to an end.” Leonard gave a small smile, because like always Mestral’s presence made him want to believe in something bigger and better than himself. But nothing ever seemed to work out for him, and he honestly didn't expect anything different to happen now.

He gently applied the hypospray, and the vial hissed as the chemical was released. He took a deep breath, and faced Mestral.

“So, how do we do this?”

“Your part will largely remain the same.” Mestral replied. “Come.” They both stood on one side of the bed, and Mestral once again touched his psi points.

“My mind to your mind…”

By now, the inner workings of Mestral’s mind were like a second home to Leonard. He had peered at various memories, felt the loneliness and isolation, seen how enthusiastically earnest Mestral truly was, and he couldn’t help but love every minute detail as though they were treasures reserved for Leonard and Leonard alone.

Soon though, he felt something new. There was a corridor calling to him, enticing him to travel somewhere new. So he heeded the call, and went forward.

He didn’t know how long it took - time and place became muddled in all of his melds - but he knew he had crossed the bridge into a new world.

And there was pain.

_Pain and anguish and six billion screams and fire and destruction and green and oh the blood why won’t it stop get away but we can’t where is my mother where is my bondmate I can’t get on the shuttle without knowing but they’re pushing me and I feel like I am being ripped apart from inside and-_

Leonard fought for control, trying to draw from a well of calm that he and Mestral had practiced. He pushed forward, tapping into his own love, his compassion, his need to heal. He held it like a shield in front of him, willing it to spread further, to quell the panic.

For a moment, he thought it was working. He saw a white cloud before him, and it seemed to settle, creating green grass and clear streams before it, replacing the barren desert and dying foliage. But then he knew it was _wrong, wrong wrong wrong, because this was not Vulcan, this was not the homeworld, this was not where Vulcans should be…_

“Leonard!”

The bridge disappeared, and Leonard was once again unto himself, staring wide-eyed into Mestral’s face, disoriented.

“It didn’t work.” He said monotonously. Mestral nodded.

“Your assertion is correct.”

 

Leonard was exhausted, and as they retreated to the safety of Mestral’s apartment, he felt like he could sleep forever. His mind, however, was running in circles, still feeling the echoes of the destruction of Vulcan. His hands twitched, every sound made him paranoid, his eyes wildly looked for the next threat.

“Mestral…” He whined, his voice pathetic and needy to his own ears. He didn’t care. “I need you.” Mestral nodded, looking drained himself.

“Come to the bedroom.” He commanded, his soft hand reaching out for Leonard’s.

Their love making was gentle, intoxicating. Mestral seemed to know every sensitive spot on Leonard’s body, stroking and teasing, biting at the junction between hip and groin that made Leonard see stars. Mestral licked his cock from top to bottom, teasing the corona in a way that made Leonard clench his fists in the sheets, unable to form coherent words. When he took the entire length into his mouth, his throat rhythmically contracting around his penis, Leonard shuttered and hoarsely called out as he came.

Mestral crawled up to him and scooped him up in an embrace, maneuvering him so that they were spooning. Leonard groaned helplessly as his partner stroked his back with light touches, shuddering sensitively in the afterglow.

“I didn’t take care of you.” Leonard mumbled into his pillow.

“It is alright. My completion came as the result of yours.” He assured. McCoy chuckled softly into his pillow.

“I’m so sexy that I made you come untouched. If that isn’t a self-esteem booster, I don’t know what is.”

“It isn’t uncommon in Vulcan couplings.”

“Don’t kill my buzz.” Leonard replied half-heartedly, with no real malice. There was a small, comfortable silence.

“I wish we were on Vulcan.” Mestral murmured, his soft words blowing past Leonard’s ear. “Often, individuals can communicate telepathically without a bond or a meld. I could simply hear your thoughts if I wished to.” Despite his contented state, something clicked in Leonard’s mind.

“Does that only happen on Vulcan?”

“It happened on Betazed as well.” He acknowledge. “On Earth, is seems to be impossible. I have not heard of any telepathic species being able to do so here.” Leonard sat up suddenly, and Mestral looked at him with concern.

“Mestral, I… shit.” He rubbed his forehead, staring unseeingly. “Telepathic species communicate through electromagnetic fields. These fields are higher on other planets, like Vulcan or Betazed. But telepathic species also have a larger reticular formation, can more easily access the delta waves that carry communication. But how did your species evolve to have that brain structure? What if it’s something about the planet? Something in the water, or some kind of vegetation that increased the size and power of the reticular formation. And what if this created a bond to the planet itself?” Mestral looked surprised.

“I can’t say that is is completely out of the realm of possibility.” McCoy moved away from Mestral, sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall unseeingly. His partner followed him, putting a comforting hand on his back and rubbed in small circles.

“If the comatose Vulcans lost their connection to their bond mate AND to the planet, maybe that was enough to send them into a sort of psychic shock that others, whom only experienced the loss of the planet, were merely ‘depressed’. It wasn’t enough to render them comatose. What if we attempted to take Vulcans to another planet of telepathic species? Tried injecting them with various compounds native to the planet? Causing them to ‘bond’ with another planet?” His mind whirled.

“The hypothesis is so uncertain that it seems unlikely to have merit, Leonard.” Mestral said kindly.

“But we don’t know unless we try.” Leonard shook his head, and turned around to face Mestral. “When I was in that Vulcan’s mind, my own energy started to terraform the landscape of his. And I was kicked out for changing the terrain. It’s not scientific, at least not by Earth standards, but what else do we have to go on?” Mestral nodded uncertainly.

“I suppose it is as likely as any of our other theories."

“Mestral, I need you to help me convince the Council of Elders that this is worth looking in to.” Mestral gave a half-pained, half-amused look.

“I would attempt to refuse you, but I think we both know that there is nothing I can deny you.”

 

It was harried and hurried, but by the next council meeting, Mestral had used his diplomatic powers of persuasion to get the Vulcan medical team to back his suggestion, and written a speech to present. It sounded rather dry and technical to Leonard, but Mestral had assured him that it was just the right amount of saccharine to avoid make the council roll their eyes but still manage to evoke their sympathies.

All McCoy could do was wait while Mestral made his plea.

So he sat in the Vulcan's apartment, attempted to meditate in front of the fire. Mestral had even given him a set of robes to wear. They smelled like him - spicy and warm - and Leonard felt his anxiety leave him when he simply focused on breathing in the scent.

His ears perked as he heard the door slide and the computer welcome Mestral home. He got up, carefully straightening the robes, and met Mestral in the entertainment area.

“How did it go?” Mestral had a dull smile.

“I convinced them that the endeavour was worthy of our time and resources. There was quite a bit of debate, as you may imagine, but the council eventually agreed to send a group of 10 comatose Vulcans to a planet with telepathic species.” Leonard cocked his head.

“You don’t seem as happy about this as I am.” Mestral nodded, and his eyes betrayed a light backlit by uncertainty.

“The most likely candidate is Betazed, as they are close by and historically relations have been amicable. The Planetary Survey Team will make a request to the Fifth House. They wish for me to go as part of the Vulcan Sciences Medical Team, to cover diplomatic relations.” McCoy felt his stomach drop.

“Oh.” He bit his lip. “I mean, that’s logical. I just… I should have seen that coming.”

“Leonard.” Mestral stepped forward, and lightly stroked his cheek, his eyes searching McCoy’s face like it was a painting he could spend hours just gazing at. “I like seeing you in my robes.” Leonard stepped away and looked down.

“Well, I guess that’s the last time you’ll see me in them, so get your fill now.” The mood plummeted.

“Do you not wish to continue what we have?” Mestral asked.

“What do we have?” Leonard asked, and the words rolled off his tongue before he could catch them. “You’re running off to Betazed, and then whenever they find a suitable planet for re-establishment, I’m sure you’ll be heading off there to make little Vulcan babies with some lesbian, and you’ll both hate it but you’ll do it because it is your ‘duty’ to ensure genetic variation in the species, or some bullshit like that, and then my friend expects me to serve on his ship as CMO and God only knows where that will take me and-” Tears had welled up in his eyes, unnoticed, and he found himself holding his breath as Mestral reached forward again, cradling his cheek in his palm.

“Leonard. If there is anything I have learned from you, it is that we make our own fate in the face of adversity. Where there is a will, there is a way.” Leonard felt the tears fall, and he covered Mestral’s hand with his own, gently rubbing his cheek into it before turning his cheek to kiss Mestral’s palm.

“It will be hard.” McCoy swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Leonard, I have waited my entire life to find a being that completes me so. In comparison to years of yearning, this will be no hardship. No matter how distant we may be from each other, the memory of your touch, your voice, your mind will always be with me. There is no societal expectation that could prevent me from doing everything in my power to ensure your happiness. I will not be a slave to the expectation of my peers, Leonard, if only you are willing to let go of your fear.” Mestral’s other hand wiped at McCoy’s eyes, following the trail of tears down his cheek reverently and brushing away his sadness with soft fingertips.

“Sometimes, I think I’ve been running on fear for so long that I don’t know any other way to be.” Leonard admitted. “And then people want things from me, and I can’t deliver on the promises I made, and everything goes to shit.” He couldn’t bear the way Mestral’s dark brown eyes looked into his own, so full of compassion and assurance, and he stepped away from the cradling hand, averted his eyes that held nothing but shame.

“I’ve seen every aspect of your mind. There is no part of your psyche I have not touched, immersed myself in. If I didn’t think you were worthy or capable of such a relationship, I would not bother to extend such an offer. From the first time I saw you, in the Council Chambers, I knew you were special. I was drawn to you in a way I have never been drawn to any other being. That is why I followed you, that is why I can't deny you anything. You may not believe it yourself, but no one will ever know you as intimately as I do, Leonard. If you cannot trust my judgement of your character you will never believe yourself worthy, and you will never be able to love anyone without your own misshapen thoughts ruining the relationship.” His hand reached out and tugged McCoy’s chin up, and Leonard thought he might be pulled apart by the sincerity in Mestral’s eyes. “I cannot force this upon you, but I can ask that you give both of us this opportunity. Trust not only me, but yourself.” McCoy nodded stiffly as a new batch of tears threatened to fall.

“OK." He croaked out. "OK."

 

Leonard took a deep breath, and settled in front of his computer. Resolutely, he opened up his contact book, and closed his eyes as the computer began to make the connection.

“Leonard?” A confused looking Jocelyn answered his call. Her dark hair was messy, she wasn’t wearing make up. She was still beautiful, in the distant way Leonard could appreciate a fine work of art.

“Is now a good time?” He asked.

“Of course. I only have a few minutes, but they’re all yours.” She replied as she produced a brush and started frantically running it through her hair. He took a deep breath.

“I’m just scared that I’m not going to see Joanna again. That she’s going to grow up, and forget that I was ever there.” Her frantic movements stopped, and she peered into the view screen.

“That won’t happen, Leonard. Even if I remarry, and she gets a step-father, you’ll always be ‘dad’. You taught her how to ride a bike, mended her skinned knees, took her out for ice cream and had tea parties with her. Nothing will be able to replace that.”

“Even though you want full custody?” She shook her head, the brush pulling at errant strands as her hair moved.

“I’d never prevent her from seeing you. As long as it doesn’t interfere with her schooling, you can have her whenever you want.” Jocelyn smiled. “Her school is doing shadow placements for various careers, and she wants to see if she can get placed with you. And if not, she wants to shadow a surgeon. You’ll always be a part of her.” McCoy nodded, and closed his eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He didn't know what to say.

"I want you to succeed, Leonard." She said softly. "I want you to use your brilliant mind to solve all the problems of the universe, I want you to have a great relationship with Joanna, I want you to be everything that we both know you can be. I'm not in a corner rooting for you to fail, because I know that even if I did want that, you won't. You're too driven, too intelligent, you work to hard for that. But I need to think about Joanna's needs, what will work best in her life. Part of that is being able to provide stability, down here on Earth. Another part of that in ensuring that she has a good relationship with her father." McCoy nodded again, and bit his lip to steady his voice before speaking.

“I’ve still got the settlement agreement you sent to me. I’ll have a lawyer review it and send it to yours.” She didn’t look as enthusiastic as Leonard thought she might. But a small smile of gratitude rolled across her lips.

“Thank you, Leonard. We’ll always be a family, even if it isn’t the picture perfect nuclear one.”

“I know.” He replied sadly. “I know.”


End file.
